


Points Of View

by lilidelafield



Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Drama, Family, Feels, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-28
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-06-17 14:17:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 17,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15463242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilidelafield/pseuds/lilidelafield
Summary: A series of One Shots. The Adventures of International Rescue, in their own words.(Taken from every Thunderbird Universe : Original Series; 2004 film; 2015 TAG version.)





	1. Alan - I'm Not Crazy

**Author's Note:**

> Since I am an admirer of Thunderbirds in all its forms...the original series, the film and TAG, this series of one shot stories will contain stories from each of these genres. To avoid any confusion, I will try to include an A.N wherever suitable.
> 
> If other stories or series of mine are mentioned that are not currently here on AO3, they will be easily found on Fanfiction.Net under the username lilidelafield.
> 
> I hope you enjoy.

ALAN

(TOS)

Dear Diary

Someone at school once said that I was crazy, and that I should get myself a therapist. What do they know? It was only an experiment; how did I know the thing would go off so soon? I was in big trouble, and dad was real mad. But then it happened again. I was certain, sure I figured out why it didn't work the first time, and if it had worked out, I would have been everyone's hero for sure. I mean, that's what the guys are always after.

The next time I tried it was in my final year, but it went even more wrong, and nearly destroyed half the building.

Dad almost went ballistic. He had to pay for the damage of course, and he swore that if I ever did anything like that again, it would come out of my allowance. How could I promise him that I wouldn't do anything mad again? It seems to me that everything I do is mad in dad's opinion.

Don't get me wrong, lessons are good, and I love learning, but I'm always top of every class, and I don't even try. I have to do something to alleviate the boredom, don't I? I did wonder why dad left me at that school for so long, whether he was even bothering to look at my report cards? When I tried to tell him I was bored, he always assumed it meant I wasn't paying attention in class, but how can I pay attention to something when I know it already? So, I spent my time working out a way to perfect my rocket experiment…this time I almost destroyed the school library.

Whether it was his own idea, or whether Scott had something to do with it, I still don't know, but this time dad took me out of school. The principal had told him that I was way too advanced for that school, and that was why I was getting into mischief. One more disruptive incident and he would have no choice but expel me for good. He recommended that dad find a higher grade school with much more advanced work, somewhere that would make me put my nose to the grindstone.

Well, he didn't do that. He put me in college instead, which was way harder, and I had much more to do and learn. That was fine by me; but I still had plenty of time for playing around with my rocketry hobby. What I didn't know was that the school had sent a confidential report of my `hobby' to the college, and as soon as they got wind of it, they send a letter to dad giving him an ultimatum. Redirect my interests into something less destructive, or move me on somewhere.

Dad could see how much I love space and rocketry, and despite the fact that my own experimental rockets were not very successful, I do actually know a fair bit about them. Rockets, I mean. Making a decent sized model at school is a handicap to begin with because there is a distinct lack of the proper materials you need, so you have to make do with whatever alternatives are available…hence my problem.

Alright, dad effectively stopped me from ever being able to experiment again by keeping me at home.

Shame.

Instead of being bored at college, having to learn at the same speed as the other students, I now get my lessons sent to me every month, and I work at them at home. Once my monthly lessons are done, I get my IR training. I am learning the specifics of all the Thunderbirds, how to fix them, the theories behind their technologies, and how to fly them. I'm not bored any more. I'm busier than I have ever been. What is more, dad hasn't had reason to yell at me or ground me since I got home.

I am already a good pilot. I have been for years. Flying Thunderbirds One and Two are not the same as flying the family jet of course, but the principle is the same. The Thunderbirds are just so much faster. But dad has said that when he is satisfied on my progress with my training, he is going to train me to be the official pilot for Thunderbird Three.

Yep,I reckon I really am crazy. I may be a member of the Thunderbirds (unofficially at least) but that doesn't stop me being a great big fan.

Thunderbirds are go!


	2. Jeff  -  One Small Step...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Jeff Tracy contemplates the very first day of International Rescue on active duty, he remembers his first meeting with Professor Hiram Hackenbacker; and has a moment of doubt. Was he right to involve his sons in this?

TOS/FILM/FANLORE

 

JEFF

Dear Diary

As I mentioned in my last entry, the day I met Professor Hiram K. Hackenbacker was the day my life changed for the better. Better known to us all as Brains of course, his incredible mind has come up with some truly staggering innovations. Some of the simpler ideas have been brought to fruition through Tracy Industries, and Brains has received the full credit on the market as the inventor. He also gets every penny he is entitled to for every sale. I used to wonder how he managed to get so much work done, does he not ever just relax?

After working with the man for so long, I have come to realise that for Brains, being a brilliant and innovative inventor is a permanent state of being. Brains at rest is Brains at his most creative. When I tried to insist he go off on holiday somewhere to relax, he became stressed and unhappy. I learned quite early on to give him complete artistic freedom, give him the run of the island, and a plane of his own so that he can come and go from the island as he wishes without asking permission. The ecstatic beam of pleasure I received from him was more than equalled by the standard of his work thereafter.

Without Brains there would be no International Rescue. I am just so glad I saw the potential in him when he first came into my office at Tracy Industries all those years ago; stammering, terrified and clutching at his briefcase as though it were a shield, tripping over the mat and breaking my mother's vase, sending water and chrysanthemums all over the Persian rug.

I still smile even now when I remember his mortification. He looked as though he felt as if he had ruined his chances of being hired before he had even opened his mouth. I think the fact that I chuckled aloud at the time made him more nervous rather than less so. I recall that rather than tell him to `sit down and relax', which generally tends to have the opposite affect on people for some reason, I simply told him I was very happy he had made the time to visit me in person and asked him to tell me about his work, his focus, his aims and his work ethic…everything he felt I ought to know. And I listened carefully to him without interrupting.

I was so impressed. The stammering I hardly noticed even when he was nervous to tell you the truth, but I did notice that the more relaxed he became, the less he stammered. Talking about the work he loved, he was passionate. When I told him that I was looking for a man who would be willing to work on a personal project for me that would benefit the whole world, but that he would never be able to take personal credit for the inventions, I watched his eyes carefully. Instead of being dismayed at the thought of working incognito, he seemed excited at the potential challenge involved. He was eager to sign a secrecy agreement so that he could learn the full details of what I had in mind.

I knew then that I had found the man I was looking for.

And here we are. The Island is perfect for our needs, everything is concealed underground. The equipment is all prepared and ready, the Thunderbirds and my sons in particular are all ready to begin operations tomorrow morning.

Eventually, I am hoping that all of us will be involved, but at the moment, our Allie is too young. He is already desperate to join us, but he needs at least to have his childhood out before he jumps in ready to risk his life. So, I'll lay out here what I have planned, and what I hope will happen one day…although who knows what the future holds for any of us?

Thunderbird One, our first responder…Scott.

Thunderbird Two, the big, green giant is the workhorse of the fleet. Virgil, eventually. A perfect match there. He is ready to fly her, but until he has more flight experience, I will be his co-pilot.

Thunderbird Three…well, eventually I think Alan would be perfect. His head is in the stars almost as much as John, only John has his heart set on the space station, so Alan will have Three when he is old enough to begin training. For the time being, Gordon and I can share piloting duties of Three.

I say Gordon for Three to begin with, because our Olympic gold medallist is an expert on marine biology, and an ex-WASP officer at that. So, he will be our aquanaut, and will pilot Thunderbird Four. It is very unlikely that we will ever need both Three and Four at the same time.

That of course, leaves Thunderbird Five, our space station. John claimed it for his own as soon as he heard about it. Space has always been his first love. I will have to keep a close eye on him though, because I can foresee a time coming if I let it, where he will be spending his whole life up there and forget that his actual home is down here with his family.

Brains will man control here on the island whilst we're away, and I will act as team leader in the field. Once the boys all have more experience, and as soon as he feels ready to accept the responsibility, Scott will be team leader in the field, and my role will then be split between control from base and helping out in the field when extra hands are needed.

How long will that take? Of course, Alan is growing up all the time, and as soon as he is ready, he will take his natural place in the team. He has always tended to try and run long before he can walk…no matter what he is doing. That is something I am going to have to watch and try and control.

Believe me diary, I did have to think long and hard before deciding to do all of this, and even harder to involve my sons.

Our motto is "At all costs", which now I am faced with the first day of operations, it is coming to me what a damned arrogant motto that really is. A humane one certainly, but it amounts to an order to give ones' life for a rescue if need be.

Suddenly, I seem to have butterflies in my stomach. I lost my wife when Alan was born, and I have no wish to lose any of my sons.

I guess it is too late to change my mind…right?

Jeff Tracy

ADDITIONAL

Hello again diary. Just wanted to add that after the above entry, Scott and Virgil came into my office to say goodnight, and they were all excited. I mentioned to them my fears involving them getting hurt, and I said something like I perhaps might have been wrong to involve them in my personal dream.

Well, I just wanted to tell you that they both tore me off a strip for even suggesting leaving them out of such a wonderful plan. They all do know their jobs. They have all trained and studied so hard to be ready for this, and they are now even more eager than before to prove to me that everything will go well.

Well, as we have just started saying around here…

"Thunderbirds Are go!"

Jeff Tracy


	3. Sally - Out Of His Senses!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You know, I still think Jeff was mad to decide to do this, and I think Scott, John, Virgil and Gordon were mad to go in with him. Alan too can't wait to be allowed to join them, and he is already soaking up every nugget of information he can find about the ships and their operations. They are all obsessed, but you know what? I think I have become infected with it too. I'll give it a little while…six months or so, give them time to set themselves settled into their new routine, then I'll close up the farm and move out to the island to join them. I can at least cook and keep house for them. I know they have Kyrano and his daughter, but those boys need their grandma.
> 
>  
> 
> This story is mostly OS with a dash of the film-verse thrown in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is brief mention here of an O/C. (Neil Tracy). To learn more about him, see chapter one of Campfire Confessions.  
> Mention is also made to occurrences from chapter two of my Confessions stories, plus the episode "Pit Of Peril" an adventure from the original series.

Dear Diary

When Jefferson first told me of his plans to begin an emergency rescue service, I truly thought he was out of his senses! I believe I even told him so in no uncertain terms. I still think he was off his trolley to even conceive such an idea, but that is not to say I was not proud of him for it.

The roots of International Rescue are tragic indeed. It still hurts almost unbearably to think about it, so perhaps if I recount it in my journal, I can come a little closer to drawing a line under it…if one can ever `draw a line under' the death of a loved one.

Lucille was very, very loved. Jeff worshipped the ground she walked on. He was already a rising star with NASA when they met, and he adored her so much, he offered to quit NASA and work for her father's firm so that they could be together as much as possible. Lucille, the dear girl, would not hear of it. I am not aware of any occasion where she complained of Jeff being away from home, sometimes for months at a time. She certainly never complained to me or in my hearing…and I think she might have done. She knew how aware I have always been that my son is no saint.

I know that my description of my late daughter-in-law makes her sound very like what novelists call…a `Mary-Sue'. Believe me…she had faults of her own. I suppose we all do, but for some reason right now I can't think of any faults Lucy might have had…apart from the fact that she had admitted to me once that as a teenager she had "lived a bit" in college.

I did not ask her to elaborate, and she did not explain any further, either than to give me what my Grant would have called a wicked smirk. I can't help wondering what she did mean by that, but it does not matter anyway. I lived a bit myself at college, and I know very well that my grandsons did, even if they deny it. There was, for example, that girl Felicity something-or-other who kept calling Scotty at all hours, demanding he visit her. Scott had finished with her apparently, and she was unhappy about it (to put it mildly). Then she hit him with a paternity suit.

Scott and Jeff were together when the very official looking letter arrived from her solicitor, and they both hit the roof! Jeff in anger and disappointment that his so perfect eldest son could be so foolish, and Scott out of shock and anger, insisting that he "had not slept with her, and would never have done so if she had been the last woman on earth". She refused to back down however, and Scott was forced to go through all due procedures, having his DNA samples taken. I swear the poor boy lost more than a stone in weight before the results came back negative.

Hang on…I've wandered off the point as usual. I was talking about our poor Lucy, and the reason Jeff came up with this crazy idea for International Rescue.

There have been some disagreements in the public sector about the cause of the death of the Great Jeff Tracy's wife Lucille. Some say she was killed in an avalanche whilst others insist she died in childbirth. Jeff refused to give any press interviews or answer any questions you see, so there is only rumour and conjecture. The truth is that everyone is correct.

Jeff and Lucy and the boys had not had a family holiday for some time. Jeff being away on Mars, and then setting up his new company after quitting NASA to spend more time with his family. Lucy had always loved snow and skiing, so they decided on a skiing holiday. They booked a year in advance; but when it came to the time, Lucy was seven and a half months pregnant. Jeff did not want her skiing in her condition, but they worked out that there were plenty of other things aside from skiing that they could do as a family, so they decided to go anyway.

Well, they were caught in an avalanche. Everyone has read about that in various papers and magazines of the time; what they say is mostly true. Lucy and John were buried in the deep snow whilst out walking near their cabin. Jeff and the other boys were out on the slopes at the time, and away from the apparent danger area. John and Lucy were both rescued, blue with cold and oxygen starvation. John had two broken legs and a fractured shoulder. Lucy too had broken limbs, but she had also internal injuries that were seriously endangering the life of her unborn baby as well as her own.

Well, she was rushed into surgery, (as was John of course). John came out plastered up and covered in bruises but otherwise fine. He was in severe shock and trauma, but in no danger. Lucy did not make it through the surgery; although the surgeons did manage to save the life of her baby…our Alan.

Jeff, after an admittedly delayed start, stepped up to the plate and arranged his affairs so that he could take care of his boys whilst also earning a living. He became determined that no family should have to suffer as his had suffered.

Other things happened. Other tragedies. There was the automobile accident that caused the death of my Grant and the severe psychological trauma to Virgil that led to his being unable to talk for over a year; even the death of Neil Tracy on the day of Virgil's birth had added its own toll on Jeff's burden.

Well, anyway, enough of the rambling, diary. Jeff earned a lot of dough…I mean A LOT! These days he is about the wealthiest man on the planet. He used some of his money to create the Thunderbirds. He scoured the world for the right man to help him and found Brains. He had seen him in some kind of lecture room somewhere and been impressed with his work. He invited him to his office and the rest is history. Brains is a professor of just about everything as far as I can tell. Without him none of this could have happened.

Well, International Rescue has been operational for a month now. Already the media is awash with speculation about who could be behind International Rescue, and where in the world could they be based.

I did have cause to raise my eyebrows indignantly this morning. There was an article in the paper about International Rescue and the way they saved a crew of men from some huge fiery pit that their great hulking machine had fallen into. Where do they come up with these designs, I ask you? A huge machine designed by the army to clear a path through the jungle, and instead of giving it tracks, it had huge great legs! Legs I ask you, what next? Anyway, this article raved on and on about how wonderful these guys from IR really are, and how selfless they must be to be willing to come out at any hour to help people all around the world out of any dangerous situation.

The same newspaper contained a photo of Jeff at some dinner laid on for national heroes…including film stars, athletes and of course, my Jeff as the first man to step foot on Mars. He had been asked to bring his family along, so all the boys were with him at this dinner. The article discussed each of the boys, speculating on the way they had each had promising careers, and then their father bought himself an island, and they all gave up their careers to sit around all day on the island doing nothing, sponging off their father rather than making some useful contribution to the world. The article ended by comparing the five sons of Jeff Tracy with the operatives of the newly arrived International Rescue organization and suggested that the boys take a leaf out of their book. Do something useful with their lives.

If only they knew!

You know, I still think Jeff was mad to decide to do this, and I think Scott, John, Virgil and Gordon were mad to go in with him. Alan too can't wait to be allowed to join them, and he is already soaking up every nugget of information he can find about the ships and their operations. They are all obsessed, but you know what? I think I have become infected with it too. I'll give it a little while…six months or so, give them time to set themselves settled into their new routine, then I'll close up the farm and move out to the island to join them. I can at least cook and keep house for them. I know they have Kyrano and his daughter, but those boys need their grandma.

I am very, very proud of all my boys. Very proud. Let anyone dare tell _me_ my grandsons are loafers!


	4. Scott  - Even the Strongest Can Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even the strongest among us are only human after all.   
> Scott recalls his first time as field commander for International Rescue
> 
> TAG verse.

Dear Diary

I'm telling you this because I have got to tell someone, but you will be locked up tightly after this, because no way am I going to let you tell anyone else. In the event of my decease, my last will and testament will be for my diary to become required reading for each of my surviving brothers…assuming I am not the last to go. But until then, there is no need for anyone to know anything more than I'm willing to tell.

Alright, I realize I sound a little bit depressed and maybe even morbid right now… well there is a reason for that…I am.

International Rescue have been in action now for six weeks. This mission was the first time I went along as field commander without dad to take charge.

Don't get me wrong here, I have no problem with taking charge or making hard decisions. I've been doing that for my brothers since mom died. This was different.

Dad managed to badly sprain his ankle three days ago. He was walking on the beach for crying out loud and trod awkwardly on a rock. He is severely bandaged up and hobbling around on crutches. Apparently, it isn't broken, although dad says it hurts as if it was. He doesn't want us to be a man down so soon, so he had me fly him up to Thunderbird Five to relieve John for a few days until his ankle heals. So now it is Myself, John, Virge and Gordon. Brains manning the talk-back on Tracy Island with Alan breathing down his neck.

(Boy, that kid sure is keen; and he seems to soak up information like some kind of super-sponge!)

Anyway, we were sent out to China, where seriously torrential rainfall led to flooding, then to a landslip, endangering the lives of hundreds of people. Because of the remote location, the Chinese authorities were not able to mobilize sufficient rescue quickly enough to prevent huge loss of life…and the rains were still falling. International Rescue were called in.

This was the first time we had been called into a situation of this scale, and although we were well versed in our equipment, and the various possibilities open to us, we were not…or rather, _I_ was not as prepared as I thought for the devastation that met us.

Already an entire village had been buried in the mud slides, including a schoolhouse with twenty-seven children. We found frantic survivors trying to build a wall of fallen trees, logs and other debris in a futile effort to stem the rapidly approaching mud.

Whilst Virgil and the guys picked up as many of the villagers as possible, I took Thunderbird One to the mountain and fired into the rocky peak, setting off a cascade of rocks rather than mud down the neighbouring mountain. Math is not my strongest subject, but fortunately it is one of John's, and he gave me the exact coordinates and angles to shoot from. He was bang on of course, and the rockslide effectively created a huge barrier that stopped the mudslide cold.

This is where the mission caused me to spill my guts all over the inside of my Thunderbird. (yeuch!) You see, the buried village was partly cleared by the falling rocks, and once we had flown low over the area to check it out, we found the bodies of almost thirty children had been dredged up and exposed, along with thirty-five or forty adults.

I don't know. It's not like I haven't seen unpleasant things before…I was in the air-force after all before dad recruited me to International Rescue; but _children?_ So many children who will never have the chance to grow up and fall in love and live a life of their own.

I suppose death on that scale is expected when there is war or conflict, but this was nature turning on people. There was no easy person to blame for all this senseless loss of life. We packed as many people as we could into Thunderbird Two, and Virgil made three trips ferrying them to the nearest government rescue center, where arrangements for the welfare of the survivors were already being made.

What was it specifically that set me off? I saw a young man about Gordon's age, lying among the ruins of his home. The bodies of three children were clustered about him, from a young girl that looked to be in her mid-teens, to a baby surely no more than two years old still clutched tightly in his arms. All of them were dead, drowned in the mud.

In other circumstances, that could so easily have been me and my younger brothers. I was jolted back to the avalanche that had killed mom and caused Alan to be born six weeks early. We lost mom that day. We almost lost her unborn baby (Alan) that day too. We would have had it not been for the brilliant surgeons at that hospital. We might also have lost John that day too. The loss of John does not bear thinking about. He is my rock. The one who has always been there for me for as long as I can remember.

We were fortunate that day. We lost mom, but I still have four younger brothers. If nature had had its way on that occasion, I would have had only two brothers. Virgil and Gordon.

That was when I lost my breakfast. I think last night's dinner also made a reappearance. I have just got back to my room after a mammoth session cleaning up the mess I made inside Thunderbird One. I told the others I was just catching up on a little maintenance. I think Virgil looked suspicious, and John looked at me extra hard…but what do they know? They won't know a thing unless I tell them.

How can I admit that their team leader got so shocked that he puked all over the inside of his own cockpit? I suppose there is a first time for all of us when faced with the sights we see whenever we go out. John was pretty stoic today, as he always is, but it'll happen for him. Something will happen that will rock his world to the core, and I will be able to sympathize because now I have truly been there myself.

Virgil's moment of realization was his very first mission, but to his credit, he didn't puke. At least, if he did, he kept it a closely guarded secret. But he burst into tears in the middle of the debrief with dad and Brains.

Why am I telling you about that? Perhaps I am trying to convince myself that I am not a weakling just because I was not able to suppress my feelings the way I usually do.

Uh oh, I have to stop now, someone is knocking loudly on my bedroom door. I'd know that knock anywhere…John. If John is here, then he will be insisting I talk to him, and Virgil will be close beside him.

How the hell did they know? I thought I had covered my tracks pretty well!

Oh well, better to bite the bullet I suppose…

Scott


	5. JOHN - Never Puke In Space!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John is still getting used to his new role as International Rescue's Space Monitor; and he finds that not everything came as easily as he expected!  
> Original Series.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is based on Terror In New York City, from the original series.

I am now the official chief of Thunderbird Five. It means that I get to spend a good portion of my life up here in space rather than down on earth.

I love it here…really. I've always loved space. I've just never been…stranded here without an immediate means of escape, you know? I'll get used to it. Dad won't let any of us stay up here for more than a month at a time, and he is determined that I will always have two months on earth in between my month up on Five. I did wonder how he was planning to pull that off, but he isn't nearly as daft as he looks. Alan and I each do a month, then our brothers take turns on the third month. I'll make a note of the rota dad has planned for this coming year.

January – John

February – Alan

March – Gordon

April – John

May – Alan

June – Virgil

July – John

August – Alan

September – Scott

October – John

November – Alan

December – Five on auto control.

It basically means that during the course of one year, dad is planning on Alan and I spending four months apiece on satellite duty, with Scott, Virgil and Gordon each doing one month.

I think it is pretty fair on the whole. Alan and I are the astronauts and we enjoy our stints on space relief. But it is surprising how much just one month each from our other brothers makes such a difference. One month on planet Tracy passes so fast and you feel like you haven't had time to live before you are heading right back upstairs again. Two months off at a time however, it feels like I actually still belong down on the island.

That was my only worry when I agreed to be the official space monitor, was that I would end up being stuck up here for months at a time, like a forgotten shoe.

JGT

I have learned a vivid lesson…DO NOT EVER puke in space! If I had made it to the bathroom as I intended, there would have been no consequences at all, beyond my feeling bad. However, it happened in the corridor where the gravity had been switched off!

I managed to hit the button to seal the hatches before…well, anyway, then activated the gravity throughout the entire station.

Once I had recovered sufficiently, I spent a most unpleasant three hours scrubbing every inch of the corridor, even taking apart some of the wall panels to get to the workings underneath because of slight seepage…the less said about that the better. I will take precautions that should I become ill in such a manner in future, there will be a safe disposal system in the control room that can be used if necessary.

I am not and was not ill. I generally don't get ill very often; it was the reaction from intense emotion. That too I hope I will learn to control better in future. After all, from here I know everything that is going on. I speak to people, some of them too far gone to still be alive by the time my brothers arrive, and I talk to them, reassure them as best I can, and on several occasions now, I have been asked to pass on messages to loved ones. I haven't broached the subject with Alan, but I can see it in his eyes. For the first week or so back home after a month in space, I can see the aftermath of those kind of calls still lodged in the front of his mind, as they are always in mine.

Perhaps we ought to discuss it?

The straw that broke my back this time was much closer to home.

Virgil.

Scott and Virgil had been on a fairly routine mission, and Scott was delayed returning to base because of that reporter Ned Cook and his cameraman filming the Thunderbirds in action. That fellow is always after a sensational scoop. Scott chased him and wiped his tape, just to ensure we keep our secrets and our anonymity safe.

Scott was still some way behind Thunderbird Two when that new US Navy strike vessel USS Sentinel started firing rockets at her, thinking that Thunderbird Two must be some kind of missile.

All I could do was watch and listen as Thunderbird Two took a couple of hits, and started a colossal nose-dive into the ocean. Half of Two's circuits were fried, and the only radio contact possible was the ship to ship between One and Two. I could hear Scott on One's circuits pleading with Virgil to "Pull up!", and I could see Thunderbird Two still nose down, heading for the water.

At times like that it seems like time has slowed down; or stopped. Normally I would have been able to take Two's controls remotely if something had happened to Virgil, but from where I stood, pretty much _everything_ was fried!

All I could do was wait…and hope…and pray, desperately that Scott would be able to get through to Virgil and get him to pull out of that dive before he died along with his ship.

I swear, Thunderbird Two could not have been more than a few feet above the water before I heard Virgil's voice coming through Scott's comm system, sounding tired, confused and dazed;

" _FAB!_ "

Then slowly, he started to pull up.

I listened in agony as Scott talked Virgil home, keeping our brother conscious and focused on his task, and I could not help but watch his ship, flying worryingly low over the surface of the ocean.

Even with burns and grazes, a massive bang on the head and concussion, Virgil still managed to land his bird safely, allowing me to finally let go of the breath I had not realized I had been holding.

Dad's courtesy call to update me on Virgil's injuries and reassure me that everything was okay proved to be the catalyst that sent me first into a puddle of relief, then into a sprint for the bathroom.

Now thinking about it, I still feel that I may have over-reacted somewhat. Vomiting is a rather extreme reaction, but that _was_ the first time since International Rescue came on line that any one of my brothers have been in such extreme material danger.

I have no doubt that smother-Scott will have had his time with our middle brother, as much as anything else as a personal reassurance that Virgil is, in fact, still breathing. I am going to have to wait until next month for my own catharsis.

I don't know though…I have control over all of the communications systems right here on Thunderbird Five. It will be late evening on the island, but I doubt Virgil will be asleep yet. He never sleeps very well in those "cheap and nasty" beds in the infirmary. He says they are not a patch on his own specially chosen memory foam mattress he loves so much. I'll patch a call through to him and talk to him directly, right now.

Why did I not think of it sooner?

JGT


	6. GORDON - The worst 30 minutes of my life!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sitting at home when my brothers are out on rescues just sucks! This time, for thirty minutes, I thought I had lost them for good!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on the episode "Sun Probe" from the original series. As such, the character Kayo did not exist in the original; Tintin Kyrano was Jeff Tracy's secretary, Brains' assistant, and Alan's love interest, and her father was Jeff's manservant.

GORDON

I nearly lost two of my brothers yesterday, as well as a good friend.

I suppose space rescues are always among the riskiest…and Alan and Scott's mission took them a lot closer to the sun than any of us had anticipated, and almost cost them their lives.

The solarnauts, Harris, Asher and Camp had completed their mission to collect matter from a prominence of the sun and had fired their retros to get themselves back onto a course to bring them back to earth.

The retros failed to fire, and their mission control people were unable to fire their retros by remote. Brains says it was at least in part because of the amount of solar radiation. So, Alan launched Thunderbird Three on a mission to fire their retros remotely from space, with Scott as his co-pilot.

And as I said, we so nearly lost them. If it had not been for Brains and Virgil…

Alan succeeded in saving the sun probe, but in so doing, experienced a sudden unexpected power loss that meant his own retros failed to fire, and they found themselves stuck in the same predicament that the Sun Probe had just been saved from.

It was Virgil and Brains, using the powerful transmitter on Thunderbird Two that managed to get Three's retros firing and saved their lives.

A traumatic enough experience for my brothers. Try it from our perspective, left behind back at base, listening and waiting for news updates.

Don't get me wrong, I am used to being left out when it comes to missions.

After all, Scott and Virgil are the primary pilots, and are needed on almost every mission. Alan and I go along whenever they need an extra crewman. On this occasion, I was consigned to the waiting game, watching the news feeds and waiting for the news that Three had succeeded and was safely on her way home again.

I will never forget the shock and dread that went through me when the TV news anchorman announced that Thunderbird Three had saved the Sun Probe but had locked its own course and was almost certainly doomed to crash into the sun.

_Scott_! My big brother. Bossy, kind, reliable, clever and _irreplaceable_ ; and _Alan_! The baby of the family. Our momma's last gift to all of us before her death. The one we all tease unmercifully, but we all adore and protect him. Scott, John and Virgil call us the Terrible Two. Alan is my partner in mayhem, and has almost as good an imagination as I do for coming up with ways to annoy our older brothers; and after all, what else were baby brothers invented for but to irritate their oldies?

For thirty minutes or more, I was sure I would never see my oldest and youngest brothers again, or our dear friend and almost-sister, Tintin.

I was terrified of what they were going through, the fear they would have been suffering prior to their deaths. In some ways, that was even more frightening at first than the prospect of never seeing them again; until I turned and looked at father. I had not seen him crying openly like this since mom's death when I was little. I guess the thought of losing two of your sons would have that affect. I didn't cry at the time. I suppose I was too stunned, and itching to be able to do something…anything to help. But all I could do was stand there and do nothing. Just wait, listen and pray.

When Virgil's voice came over the comms, telling us that he and Brains had been successful in saving Thunderbird Three, I was so relieved, I was torn between bursting into tears, or turning somersaults. Perhaps unsurprisingly, I did neither. I remained calm and collected and outwardly happy and cheerful. I remained so until both ships and all brothers (except John, of course) were back home so that I could see them and touch them in the flesh, to reassure myself that they actually were real and not some figment of my imagination.

We had a big welcome home party to celebrate Alan, Scott and Tintin's successful mission, and we all had a wonderful time. I think for the most part I at least was carried along on the emotional wave of euphoria.

And then I came upstairs to bed.

It is in those times after all the excitement had died down, and you are left alone to ponder all the possibilities that the shock hits home. I found myself sat on the edge of my bed, shaking like a leaf, trying to tell myself that "all is well that ends well".

Well, no disrespect to those people who believe in that phrase, but for my money it is cobblers!

If I was Scott, I would have taken refuge in vigorous exercise; either running round the island, or pounding the daylights out of the punchbag in the gym.

If I was John, I would put on some classical music and lose myself in my favourite novel.

If I was Virgil, I would take out all my frustrations on the piano, or by throwing paint at a canvas.

Alan…If we were on the mainland, Alan would have gone for a drive, but we have no roads on Tracy Island, never mind cars. He goes to Tintin, and they laugh, weep or talk through their problems like proper grown-up people.

As for me, I swim.

I finally went down to the pool and just dived in, pyjamas and all. I didn't even think about putting my trunks on. That's how keyed up I was. I just kept swimming as fast as I could, up and down, up and down. The exhaustion creeping through me was nothing compared to the pain I had felt when I thought I had lost my brothers. I just wanted more and more of the physical pain, so that I could lose myself in that and forget the other.

How long I was in there I couldn't say, but I was brought to a halt when my little brother himself dived into the pool, clad only in his boxers, and physically grabbed my arm as I thrashed past him.

"Gordon! Gordon, please! Stop for a bit and take a break will ya? You've been in here for over an hour already."

"Have I really?"

I was panting, sure, but the pain was not strong enough yet. The fear twisting my gut was still there. Alan smiled at me and swam to the edge, inclining his head for me to follow. I followed him to the side and found that he had two mugs of hot chocolate with marshmallow waiting. He handed one to me, winking.

"I borrowed some of John's mallow pieces. I'm sure he won't mind. You're a worthy cause."

I hoisted myself up and sat beside him on the edge of the pool with my feet dangling into the water. He slipped a large towel around my shoulders.

"Thanks, Al."

It was only then I realized I was shivering again, like I had been before, up in my room. I was unsure whether this time it was caused by fear or simply being cold. I cradled the mug in my hands, and took an appreciative sip. Alan was sitting sideways to the pool, looking at me with worried eyes.

"Okay Gords, give!" he said quietly.

"Give what?" I asked, pretending not to understand him. He was not fooled in the slightest.

"You know what bro. You never swim that fast for that long at this time of night unless something is bothering you. Tell me Gordo, please. What's wrong?"

I glanced at him, taking in his dark blue boxers, his bare torso with the sprinkling of blond hair on his chest. When on earth did my baby brother become a man? Those blue eyes looked like they were penetrating my soul.

"Guess." I replied shortly, afraid of giving myself away. He stared at me for a moment, a startled look in his eyes, then he leant forward and enveloped me in a hug.

"God, I'm so sorry Gordo. I forgot you were stuck here all that time with dad, not knowing, and just having to watch and wait. I hate it when it is me."

I nodded.

"The guys…I mean Scott and Virgil think that when you get moody about being left behind it is because you are too eager to be involved, that you don't want to be left out all the time. I know it isn't that at all."

He nodded.

"I would rather be on the scene with the guys, regardless of what goes wrong, because when I am on the scene, I can do something to help. Sitting at home sucks because you feel so helpless. _They_ have rarely experienced that."

I looked down at my half-empty mug.

"It was worse this time, Alan." I told him. "It is always worse when you go to space rescues, because if something goes wrong for you, there is very little we can do to help you. This time Virgil was able to save Thunderbird Three from earth, but what if he hadn't? You were out there…no one on earth could've gotten to you in time…if we get in trouble, there's no one else we can turn to for help. We are the final option. If something beats us…"

Alan looked troubled. He put his hands on my shoulders and looked into my eyes.

"Gordon, I know all of that. It's one of the things you and I have in common over the others. This is a dangerous job we are doing. We accepted those terms when we agreed to join. Talk to me Gords, What is it that really has you out here, fighting the water like this?"

The air suddenly exploded from my lungs in a huge sob, an action so unlike me that Alan lunged forward and hugged me again on impulse. I returned the hug, then pulled away so that I could look him in the eyes.

"Alan, I…there is a pain inside me so hard and so tight that I couldn't ignore it or make it go away. This is the only thing that works, but it wasn't working fast enough. I have to try harder…"

He shook his head.

"No Gordon, swimming will tire you out, but it won't solve anything else. You know that better than I do."

The pain was growing in me, sitting beside my baby brother like this. I had to tell him or explode.

"Alan, I spent half an hour thinking that you were dead! Dad and I both believed we had lost you and Scott, and I never want to feel that way again. The way I feel right now, Alan, I want to lock you away in your bedroom just so that you never get into any danger again! I thought I had lost you and it nearly killed me. I don't ever want to feel this way again. Every time I look at you I keep thinking of what nearly happened, what might have happened, and what I…what we would all be thinking and feeling now if…"

To my shock, and shame, my voice cracked, and I turned away, unwilling to let my little brother see my tears.

"Oh, Gordon!" was all he said. He pulled me towards him, and I rested my wet head on his chest while he wrapped his arms around my shoulders. I tried to keep my tears to myself, but Alan knows me well enough by now. He wasn't fooled by my shaking shoulders and sniffing, I'm sure.

How long we sat there, I couldn't say, but it was dad who found us just as the sun was coming up. We had not slept, or even talked very much. We had simply sat there beside the pool, leaning on each other. Alan knows me so well, as I know him. He knew I needed the physical proof that he was really alive. Sitting side by side, shoulder to shoulder, looking up at the stars, listening to the sea breaking on the rocks, simply being together as brothers.

Corny? Cheesy even? Perhaps, but for me and Alan…(sorry grandma), _Alan and I_ , it was what we needed to do. Dad handed us a blanket and a couple of pillows and suggested we each try to get a couple of hours of sleep before the day started properly.

We managed about two and a half hours, before we were rudely awakened by the sound of the Klaxon going off. We made it to the lounge and learned it was another Scott/Virgil special type of rescue, simple and uninvolved so Alan and I would not be required. I looked at him and found him grinning at me with a glint in his eye that I recognized.

We had plans to hatch before Scott and Virgil got back . . .


	7. BRAINS - The Day The World Changed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I had been unemployed for a year, no money left, and at the end of the week, nowhere to live either. I had already had to pawn my mother's rings. All I had left was my diplomas and professorships. I was apparently too weird or radical for engineering or design positions, and overqualified for everything else. I was about ready to ditch my qualifications into the river and start washing windows when I received a hand-delivered message from the director of Tracy Industries, one Jefferson Tracy . . .

**Thursday 1st May**

_**7.00 A.M** _

I have plentiful opportunities right now for making entries in my journal, since I am out of work. I generally receive the same response from companies. Usually it is along the lines that I am " _Overqualified_ " for the position in question, but they will keep my application on file in case any positions become available that would be better suited to my capabilities.

What they fail to consider is the fact that I have been out of work consistently now for almost a year, ever since my own company folded for lack of investment. I am at the point taking anything I can get; even hiding my qualifications just so that I can get some money coming in. I already owe my landlady three months' rent, and I will have to pawn my late mother's wedding and engagement rings in order to gather enough money together to pay her what I owe. That will not be enough to stop her throwing me out, but at least when she throws me into the street, she'll let me keep my clothes rather than selling them off for cash!

Once I have given my landlady her money, I have yet another interview this afternoon. I applied eight months ago to Tracy Industries, citing my knowledge and qualifications and asking for consideration for any position that may arise that would suit me. At the time I received a politely worded _Thank you_ note from some secretary or other, telling me, _again_ , that my application would be filed. Then nothing. Suddenly, last night I received a hand-delivered message from Tracy Industries, informing me that Mister Jefferson Tracy would be glad of the opportunity to meet with me, and informed me that he would be glad if I could make my way to his office by three o'clock the following day.

I admit I was surprised and excited to receive the message, also chagrined because being unable to pay my telephone bill, my cell-phone is useless right now except as a paperweight.

I cannot manage to get my hopes up, despite the unusual circumstances of this interview. My original application was full of my initial optimism, before reality buried me under a tall pile of worries, debt and depression. A year of having people laughing at me, telling me my ideas are _impossible, implausible, unworkable, unrealistic_ or just plain _loopy_ , and that I am _out of my mind_ has been singularly unencouraging. It has only recently occurred to me that possibly some potential employers are being put off by my stammer? I am not nearly so bad as I was as a child, but I admit that it does get a lot worse when I am nervous, worried or stressed.

Once Tracy Industries has added its' scorn to the pile, I am thinking of ditching my professorship into the nearest river; and taking a job as a window-cleaner. At least there are plenty of dirty windows out there, and I will get myself a dull, but steady income, that will provide rent, food and a cell-phone. Who knows, I might still be able to search for something more suitable in my spare time.

_**13.00 P.M** _

Just paid Mrs. Wetherall her rent. Mother will be turning in her grave. It broke my heart to pawn her rings, but I had nothing else worth pawning. The shop has promised to keep the rings safe for me, provided I can pay them the bill by the end of a month.

Fat chance.

Anyway, I am off now. I have to cross town to get to the Tracy Building, and I don't have enough money left for either taxicab or bus fare. I may as well go for broke and take everything with me. It is all there in my slightly battered briefcase. At least Jeff Tracy has a reputation for honesty and respect in business and is known to accept only the best and the brightest in his team. Perhaps…

**Friday 2nd May**

_**01.30 A.M** _

Wow!

Wow!

Wow!

I have to get some sleep…but I don't think I am ever going to sleep again for excitement! I am back home for the time being, I have my mother's rings back…and a car is coming at ten o'clock tomorrow morning to collect me and all my belongings! Then I will be starting my new life on a beautiful tropical island!

Wow.

Alright Hiram, calm down. This is what actually happened.

I arrived, finally, at the Tracy Building, where I found a tall, dark haired, blue eyed young man standing in the lobby waiting for me. I assumed he was a porter or something, as he took me all the way up to the office of Jeff Tracy himself. But instead of leaving me at the door, he smiled at me, and opened the door for me.

"Father, Professor Hackenbacker has arrived."

"Ah, good." Came a voice from inside. I was ushered inside, and I found a kindly looking man, younger than his reputation would have you believe with dark hair with only the tiniest greying at the temples, and eyes that seemed to smile on their own. He stood up and came from behind his desk and shook me by the hand.

"Thank you for coming, professor. These are my sons. This is my eldest son Scott…"

He indicated the young man whom had brought me upstairs. Then he indicated another young man who was reading through the contents of a thick file.

"This is my third son, Virgil."

Virgil gave me a smile and a nod, and put the file down on the desk in order to shake my hand. Virgil was even darker than his brother, shorter and stocky. He looked like he would make a fair bouncer. I immediately started to get nervous again.

"Glad to meet you." I know I stammered badly, but surprisingly, none of the three men seemed to notice it at all. I was offered a chair, and Mister Tracy went on to explain that he had a private project on hand, and that he was searching for a specialist to work exclusively on the project with him and his sons.

He explained that he had seen me before, giving a lecture at university and he had been very impressed with my knowledge, my approach to the subject and my ideas. He also said that he and his sons had been looking at the ideas and approaches of many different possible candidates, and that I was the only one that to them stood out as appropriate.

I was stunned by that remark. I found myself gabbling in shock.

"Mister Tracy, you are the first person to take my work and ideas seriously. Everyone appears to think that I am a crackpot."

He smiled again.

"Well you are not a crackpot, Mister Hackenbacker. Now, perhaps you would give me a verbal account of your ideas and theories regarding air travel?"

Tracy Industries is an aerospace company, so the question did not surprise me. I went on to explain in detail my rather radical ideas for new propulsion methods, for air travel and even for space travel. I could see him exchanging glances with his sons. When I had finished, the three Tracys murmured together, then Jeff Tracy stood up.

"Well professor Hackenbacker, we all agree that you are definitely the specialist we have been searching for. Are you interested in joining us on our project?"

I asked him how long was the nature and duration of the project? I explained that I was not prepared to get involved with anything designed to be used as a weapon. He glanced at his sons with a nod, and his smile widened.

"I am very glad to hear you say that. The project we are working on is intended to be something that will last…ad infinitum, and so when I find the right man, he will have a job for life. The machines you create will have to be top secret, both the designs and the designer, because if they were to fall into the wrong hands, they could well be used as weapons. We on the other hand, intend them for use to help the world."

I was so excited. I begged to know the details of his plans. He asked me for my solemn oath that I would never breathe a word of what I was to hear with anyone, ever. I eagerly gave them that oath, and I even signed a document giving him my assurance that I would keep silent.

Then he told me about his plans to create a rescue service called International Rescue. A small fleet of vehicles and machines designed to react to an emergency anywhere in the world within an hour. His sons would be the pilots. He even had plans for a communications satellite and a space-rocket.

I have to say, that even though it is late…or rather, early, my brain is spinning with ideas. I am going to have to get working right away. How can I sleep with all of this spinning about in my head?

I asked him, out of curiosity, the details of employment. Where we would be working, my salary, that kind of thing. I was thinking mostly of how long it would take me to buy back my mother's rings.

He told me that we would be working on his private island.

I would receive a generous salary paid into my bank account every month.

I would have my own suite of rooms within his family home on the island, including a spacious office, lab and workrooms, and that room and board was free. I would be regarded as a guest rather than an employee.

He also told me that as an important member of the team, I would not be required to "clock in nine to five", but rather, we would all be working as a team in order to make International Rescue a reality. I would have a small plane put at my disposal, so that I could come and go from the island at my leisure.

I told him I could not fly.

Scott then grinned at me.

"I was a fighter pilot in the US Air force." He told me with a twinkle in his eye. "I've just quit the air force to work with you all on this project. I'll teach you so well you'll be able to fly with your eyes closed within a month."

"Are you interested in joining us?" Jeff asked me, his face serious. Grinning from ear to ear, I nodded, resisting the urge to jump up and down in my excitement.

"I'm in!"


	8. LUCY TRACY - A Holiday to Remember!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some brief excerpts from the personal diary of Lucille Tracy, currently kept locked up tightly in Jeff Tracy's strong box, hidden in the depths of his closet.

 

My Darling Diary

The boys are getting really excited for their holiday now. We haven't been away as a family now for quite a long time. So long in fact, that I think little Gordon has no memory of it, but he is wildly excited at the thought of playing in the snow.

Actually, Diary, between you and me, _so am I_! I went skiing a couple of times with my roommate at college. Dawn was such a good skier that if she had ever been the type to take anything seriously, she could have been a champion. As it was, she contented herself with teaching me the basics and showing off her tricks. She even taught me a few tricks, which I originally had planned on showing off to Jeff and the kids. So much for that idea!

We always planned to have a fifth child, only this little one came along sooner than we had intended. I am currently seven months pregnant; and looking something like a two-legged pink elephant! I ought to be used to having a belly this size after four previous pregnancies, but I am bigger with this one than with any of the others at this point. My belly-button arrives everywhere a full two seconds sooner than my butt! Whatever will I be like when I reach the full nine months?

Anyhow, we'll be off in two weeks, meaning that at seven-and-a-half months pregnant, Jeff is going to be all solicitous and caring and otherwise extremely _annoying_ as well as adorable! He has even toyed with the idea of cancelling our ski trip in favour of a trip to the beach somewhere, so that he will have good reason for insisting I spend the entire fortnight resting on a warm beach rather than having fun in the snow.

I wonder what he is expecting will happen? He won't be letting me ski. I admit I did pout at first, but on reflection I know he is right about that. I have never been on skis whilst so heavily pregnant, and I am concerned that the baby will throw off my center of balance, which for many of us is precarious enough on ice anyway. I am thinking of having some fun, hiring a full-size sled and making Jeff pull me everywhere on it, just to impress upon him that I really do take his concerns seriously, despite our argument this morning. I did phone him to apologize, but he was in a meeting. I'll bake him some coconut flapjacks as an additional peace offering. Perhaps a chocolate layer cake…and my famous lemon meringue…

I had better stop this for now, or they will never be finished in time; and I have to put Gordon in the car and drive to collect Scott, John and Virgil from their school. Perhaps in a couple of years I'll let Scott collect his brothers and bring them home on the bus, but right now they would all be a little too much of a burden for him to deal with all on his own. He's only ten years old, after all. Gordon will be five in a few weeks and he'll be starting kindergarten. Scott deals very well with his brothers at home, but on the bus…and before long, our little fish as well? No. Just…no.

* * *

My Dear Diary

Just a short entry, because I am so tired right now.

WE ARE ON HOLIDAY!

Sorry for the excitement. We arrived a few hours ago and have already undertaken a walking tour of the resort, and visited a restaurant for our evening meal, and I am about bushed after coming back to our apartment and unpacking everyone's clothes and putting everything away. Looking after four boys all under the age of ten is exhausting, especially with the amount of energy mine have! Jeff, bless the man tried to help, but he was supposed to be getting the boys bathed and dressed for bed, and when I came through with their cookies and milk, he was rolling around on the floor with them, playing `tickle-monster' with Gordon and Virgil, with Johnny and Scotty bouncing up and down, egging him on!

I couldn't help but laugh with them. After all, they're on holiday too. Who cares about bedtimes? Jeff thinks I ought to relax bedtimes whilst we're here, and actually I quite agree except for one thing. Both Virgil and Gordon need a full nine hours of sleep minimum if they have any hope at all of being cheerful the next day. With the way their father got them both excited, it'll be midnight before they get to sleep, and it'll be passed midday tomorrow before we'll be able to peel either of them from their beds.

Oh well, we're all over-excited to be here. We've been waiting so long for this holiday; I am determined it shall be a holiday to remember! What's the problem of spending the first day having a relaxing and fun family day at home? We could build snowmen in the yard, and if the boys want to go skiing later, Jeff could take them to the slopes whilst I cook supper for them in our cabin.

I'll let you know what happens.

* * *

Dear Diary,

We've had a lovely week so far. The boys have been to the slopes several times, whilst I've gone along to sit somewhere safe and warm to watch, feeling the baby kicking me. It almost feels like the baby is excited to be away as well. He kept me awake last night with his kicking, and he is still at it. I really hope he is not this active and restless after he is born, or he'll be in kindergarten before I get any sleep of my own.

Jeff has gone off alone today with Scott and Virgil to their favourite ski slope for some fun. They've promised to pick up a couple of pizzas on their way home, and we'll have a picnic on the lounge floor and play games for the evening. Johnny's looking forward to that. The poor child was sick yesterday morning, and spent all day feeling really poorly, and so missed out on an epic snowball fight with his brothers versus Jeff and me. I had to abandon Jeff early I'm afraid because I was worried about John. He'll be fine though, our John. He decided to stay with me today and relax. He was nervous about eating his bacon and eggs this morning in case it made him throw up again, so I have him a small bowl of thin gruel and he kept it down really well. We're about to go out for a nice stroll. He's promised his father to ring him if anything happens to me or the baby, so John is carrying his head high and proud.

Oh my, I really do adore my boys! I'll make sure they know it when they come home this evening.

* * *

PERSONAL NOTE.

This is the hardest thing I have ever had to do, but this is where the personal diary of my darling, wonderful Lucy ends.

Whilst Scott, Virgil and I were out having fun on our skis, Lucy and John went out for a walk near the cabin and got caught up in a sudden devastating avalanche.

John is in hospital with three of his limbs broken, but he'll be fine eventually.

Lucy was badly hurt, and rushed into surgery, but died on the table. The surgeons managed to save the baby. Our little Alan was born six weeks early, and 4 pounds in weight. He'll be in an incubator for a week as a precaution, but they believe he will be fine.

I have lost my wife, lover and best friend. Right now, it feels like my life is over too.

I have five boys all under the age of ten who will be looking at me to me their father and mother from now on.

I don't know what I am going to do. What day is it?

Jeff Tracy


	9. What Do I Want To Be When I Grow Up?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My name is Virgil Grissom Tracy, and I am eight years old.  
> A school Essay.

My name is Virgil Grissom Tracy, and I am eight years old. I don't know what I want to be when I grow up. My big brother Scott likes planes and wants to be in the air force like dad, and my other big brother is dotty about space. We call him spaceman coz that is all he thinks and reads about. I think he is going to be a nastronaut, _an astronaut_ and go to the moon and mars and stuff. When we said that Mars didn't need to be discovered, he said alright, I'll go to Saturn then. I think he will coz Johnny really knows a lot of stuff about space.

I don't know much about space or about planes, so I don't think I want to do that. I like fixing things, so I might fix things when I grow up, but I don't think I can get rich that way. What I like doing the most is painting. My mommy used to like it when I painted pictures for her, but dad says that I have other talents that would go to waste if I did that. I don't know what he means. I asked Johnny, and he said a talent was something I am good at. I'm good at art and music and mending things. Gordy broke Alan's toy car by accident by treading on it, and I fixed it, and Alan stopped crying real quick.

Everyone knows what Gordy, I mean Gordon (my little brother) wants to do, coz he was born in water grandma says. I don't know what she means, coz mom wasn't in a pool, she was in the hostible hospital, but anyway Gordon loves being in water. We call him Fish coz when we go to the swimming pool, Gordy cries when we have to get out. He says he wants to swim for all of his life and never stop. When I asked him for this essay what he wants to be when he grows up, he said a shark. I didn't like that, coz sharks are scary and eat people, so Gordy said he would be a dolphin instead, coz they're nice and they smile at people.

I can't tell you about Alan coz he's only two and can only just talk and then not very well. I know he likes cars. He has fifteen toy cars all in different colours and he likes to have pretend races with them. He likes his red car the best, and he always makes his red car the winner. Sometimes Gordy and I borrow one of Allie's cars and we play racing cars with him, but Alan always keeps his red car and he is the fastest. So, I think when Alan gets big he will buy a red car and drive really fast. Daddy said over his dead body, but I won't tell Allie that, coz I think that might scare him. I might ask Johnny why daddy said that, coz I thought that daddys live forever.

I know what I want to do when I grow up. I just decided it. I just fell over in the playground and hurt my knee, and it hurt a lot. The school nurse told me about the different ways of fixing a bad knee and I forgot about it hurting. When my brothers fall over and get hurt I want to be able to make them better, so I wont paint or anything. I'll be a doctor.


	10. The Birth Of Kayo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who really is Kayo? Here she gives us just a tiny peep beneath the surface...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story follows my own headcanon that Kayo and TinTin are the same person, Kayo having rejected her childhood nickname after learning the identity of the Hood and rejecting all ties with her past that might link her with him. It combines elements of TOS and TAG. My apologies if Kayo seems slightly O/O/C. Hers is a difficult voice to capture!

I am Tintin.

I am an only child.

I was born nineteen years ago to Tino and Onaha Kyrano, only now they are both long gone.

I still dream of them, often.

When we first came here to Tracy Island, dad was Mister Tracy's personal servant, and gardener, mother was the cook. I was really scared to find that Mister Tracy had five children of his own, five boys, four of them older than me, the other just a couple of years younger and all of them very outgoing and boisterous. I had never been much around other kids before, and I was scared that the boys wouldn't want me around. I was shy and spent a lot of time in the kitchen helping mom so that I wouldn't be in the way of Mister Tracy or his five boys. Then, Scott and Virgil came into the kitchen and took my hands and made me come with them. They told me they and their brothers were playing a game and said that it was always fun playing with five, but it would be even more fun playing with six. Right from the start the boys accepted me and welcomed me to their home.

Mister Tracy paid for me to go away to a good school, and when it came time to come home, Mister Tracy himself came to collect me. I remember how the other girls in school were awestruck that I was being picked up from school by the famous multi-billionaire astronaut Jeff Tracy.

When I was eleven, my mom got sick, and even though she got the very best care thanks to Mister Tracy, she died. I missed her so much. I was really scared after that, because dad was all I had left. It seems that my father had been concerned about the same thing, because a few weeks after mom's death, when he was tucking me in, he told me that Mister Tracy promised him that I would always have a home here on Tracy Island, even if something happened to _him_ , I would never be sent away.

I learned to love Mister Tracy almost as much as my own father, and his five sons insisted on calling me their sister, and that I should call them my brothers. I often wished they really had been my brothers. Mister Tracy brought Brains to the island, and they started planning for and building the Thunderbirds, and I got even more excited at being a part of their lives. I was in school, thanks to Mister Tracy of course, as was Alan. Gordon, Virgil and the others at that time were in college or careers. I think Virgil was in college, Gordon was in WASP, Scott was in the RAF and John was in NASA, and yet they still called me every week when they could.

The Thunderbirds were launched, and Alan and I at first didn't have much to do with the organization. Alan was in college by then, I was back on the island, helping my father with the chores and planning for my own college career and world trip.

Life seemed perfect, thanks to the Tracy family. The only black part being the death of my mother.

I learned a lot at college. I made sure I studied subjects that would give me a basis in medicine and engineering so that I would be able to make myself useful to International Rescue, whilst in the evenings, unbeknownst to my father who would not have approved, I studied martial arts. I wanted to be able to protect my honorary brothers from anyone who should try anything on with them. They had always been so good to me, I was going to make sure they were safe to save the world. By the time I got home from my own college career, Alan had completed his astronaut training and taken his place on the team, as the second astronaut.

Then, right out of the blue, Mister Tracy…the center of all our lives disappeared whilst testing out some new equipment for Brains in his plane.

That was the first time I had ever seen the boys all cry. I guess it was the first time they had seen me cry, too. A lot of things had to change then, and quickly, and the first thing that had to change was me.

Tintin was the little girl who had hidden in the kitchen, afraid of the new life she had been thrust into. I had not been that little girl for a long time. I was no longer Tanusha either, the young woman at college with a father, a mentor and five honorary brothers back on the island, waiting for me to become Brains' assistant for International Rescue.

No, for I learned who was responsible for the disappearance of Jeff Tracy, my mentor. It was someone who called himself the Hood. But having seen him on one of the CCTV screens that filmed him in action, I knew who he was. I knew his name and where he was from. My father recognized him too. Mister Tracy had known him, and so had grandma Tracy, but none of the boys ever had. It was Trangh Belagant.

My uncle Trangh who had once played tag with me through the rooms and corridors of our old family temple.

My uncle Trangh whom had once promised to teach me everything he knew about eastern martial arts.

My Uncle Trangh was the Hood, the man responsible for the disappearance and probable death of the great Jeff Tracy, my mentor, the father of my honorary brothers.

My father died of a broken heart not long after, leaving me alone. But I'm not alone.

Tanusha is no more, neither is Tintin. I have sworn to kick my uncle's butt clean into the next world, so I have my new purpose. I have my honorary brothers, who are honorary no more. They have made themselves my true family, and I swear that I will protect every single one of them with my life.

_**I am Kayo!** _


	11. Scott - Dear Mom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the death of his mother, Scott has something on his mind, and there is only one person he can tell. . .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Scott is about eleven when he writes this letter.

Dear Mom

I know you are gone, and will never read this letter, but there are some things I want to say, and this is the only way I can get to say them. I can't talk to dad. Not about you. Not yet. One day when I am bigger, and he is more ready I might give this letter to him to read, but until then it will stay hidden in the book that is now my new diary.

I miss you mommy.

I miss you. I didn't say goodbye to you that day mom. I never thought about it at the time because I was so excited about going out on the slopes and skiing, that I rushed out and never thought about saying goodbye, or I love you. I only realized it when I learned that you had died, and I would never be able to see you again. See you or talk to you or hug you.

I miss hugging you, mom. Dad has a good hug, but no one hugs like you do, although Virgil comes the closest. Our little bear has the best hug of all next to yours, but where you always smelled lovely, like roses and vanilla, Virgil tends to smell like soap and sour milk. The soap is because he has become obsessed with washing his hands whenever he gets paint on them, and he paints all day whenever he can now. The sour milk is because it has become his favourite drink, but he can never drink a glass without spilling half of it down his shirt. Grandma is on the verge of giving him one of Alan's bibs to wear to save herself so much laundry.

I wish you could see your little baby, mom. He looks just like John. Little Alan is almost a year old now… that is how long it has been since we lost you…already he is showing his own very definite personality. He and Johnny have become the best of friends. His little face lights up with the very biggest smile whenever John comes into the room. John has any amount of patience with him. The other day mom, John and Allie were playing together. John picked him up and swung him round, and Alan puked all down John's favourite sweater, and Johnny didn't even mind.

When John shows Alan the stars, you should see the baby's eyes grow really big and wide. He'll sit with John for hours like that, when grandma says any other time its like Alan has ants in his pants…he is usually, a very wriggly baby, mom. He can't keep still unless he is watching the stars with John. Dad calls them his two little starmen.

Grandma moved in with us to help out, as soon as she could arrange tenants for the farm. She makes sure that we are well taken care of, so you never need to worry about us.

I really miss you mom.

I really wish you were here, mom. A little while after we lost you, grandpa Tracy was killed in an accident in the truck, and Virgil was with him. It turned out that Virgil was stuck in the upside-down truck with grandpa's dead body for over an hour before he was found and rescued. That was about a month after…you know. Well, Virgie hasn't spoken a word since that day. Whether he can't or won't no one seems to know. He doesn't seem to know himself either. He is terrified of being out of sight of any of us, so he is being home educated. The school sends work to him and grandma or dad…whoever is at home, stays with him and helps him and makes sure he does his work.

A child psychologist called Tasha comes to the house to see him too. She is quite young and very nice, and Virgil seems to like her. She says that our boy will be alright in the end, that when he starts to recover from his trauma, he'll speak again. None of us can wait for that day. He paints all the time he can now, but he stopped playing the piano after you died mommy. At the moment he can barely stand to even _look_ at your piano. Tasha says that the piano is a part of you mom, and that is why Virgil is scared of it. She says that he will get back to playing in his own time and we should be patient.

You were always the patient one, mom. You were patient with me when I wanted a dog instead of a baby brother; you were patient with John when he refused to stay in bed but would sit up all night staring at the stars. You were patient with Virgil teaching him to paint and to play piano. You were patient with Gordy with absolutely everything. Grandma says that dad used to say you had the patience of a saint. I'm not quite sure what that means, but out of all of us, John is the most like you, mom in his looks, and in the amount of patience he has with the baby.

I promise mom that we will all treasure little Alan, for you. He was your last gift to us, and every time we look at him we remember you, and how you were our mom, and how much we love you.

Sorry for not stopping to say goodbye to you that day mom, for not telling you how much I love you or hugging you. I wish I could go back in time and persuade dad to take us to the beach instead for our holiday. Then you would still be with us.

We will all tell Alan about you mom. He will grow up knowing you and loving you as we do, and when we grow up mom, we will become men that you would have been proud of.

I promise.

Your Scotty

**Afternote :** _**In Chapter Two of Campfire Confessions, Virgil tells Alan about the events surrounding his grandfather's death.**_


	12. JEFF - The Very Hardest Job

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Boys believe theirs is the hardest job within International Rescue. Jeff disagrees!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on and inspired by the original series episode "Move and you're dead!"

Jeff – The Very Hardest Job

Dear Diary

My sons do a bang-up job for International Rescue. I am very proud of all of them. But I still say that I have the hardest job out of all of them. Well, except perhaps John.

They do the hard, physical work, and they receive the thanks and the glory for it…such as it is with the secrecy we are under anyway. But when things don't go to plan…and I hate to keep calling them for updates when they need to be concentrating on their mission…I have to sit at home and wait.

And wait.

And wait.

Scott keeps me updated when he can, so I very often have a good idea of the situation they are facing on each rescue, and usually I am informed when something goes wrong or if someone gets hurt. That, however, is when I come unstuck.

When things are in crisis on a rescue, it is imperative that Scott keeps his head and directs matters as only he can. Only he cannot possibly do his job efficiently if he has to keep calling base to update his old man, so I am consigned to the waiting game.

I have learned to wait, but I hate it. I hate it with a passion. There is always that fear that history might repeat itself, and I will lose another member of my family. I _do_ trust my sons. _All_ of them. I could not have found any five young men anywhere with the skills or dedication displayed by my sons. Therein lies my fear. They will each of them willingly give his life for his job, without even thinking twice. I could lose all of them. Such fears keep me awake at night often.

I think, in fact I am sure that Scott and possibly even John are aware of my frequent insomnia and the reasons for it, because I receive frequent subtle reminders from them of their respect and love for me, and their insistence that my dream is no longer mine alone. It has become theirs too.

I know they are dedicated, and I know that they are very skilled, and they have the very best equipment available to them; equipment that is always being increased and improved upon. Brains is about the best engineer on the planet. Bar none. My boys are as well protected as it is possible for them to be.

That however, does not stop me from worrying about them, neither can the very best equipment prevent the unexpected. I'll give you an example. A recent example.

This weekend just gone, our Alan was in England, testing out Brains' new car design. Now come on diary, if anyone of us was going to test out a car, it had to be Alan, right? Former car racing champion? Winner of the cup at Parola Sands for three seasons running? What better way to put the new car to the test?

We all watched the race on the TV and we saw Alan take the lead early on in the race and go on to win the treasured cup. We were all very proud of him, and of Brains for designing the car. The weekend was to come to a perfect finish, as Alan was due to pick up his grandmother before his rendezvous with Virgil In Thunderbird Two.

None of us were prepared for what came next.

The first I knew of it was a call from Alan using his personal comm. I remember staring at his face, seeing the strain, the fear, and a lot of sweat. Water was pouring down his face, and into his eyes. At first, I wondered why he did not merely wipe his face with his handkerchief, like any normal person would have done.

Then he explained to me the predicament he was in, and my blood ran cold. One of his competitors had taken defeat badly and had laid a deadly trap. Unknowingly, Alan and my mother drove straight into it. They were taken to the closed down San Miguel bridge, put onto one of the support struts of the bridge, and warned to remain still. Those fiends had placed a powerful bomb on the underside of the bridge, and a device close to Alan's feet that was programmed to detonate the bomb immediately if Alan or mother tried to move.

I sent off Brains with Scott and Virgil right away, warning them that if they did not break all speed records getting there, they were very likely going to lose both their baby brother and their grandmother.

The hours that followed were the longest in my entire life. The terrifying thing was that, although Alan assured me that mother was sat down, in a safe position and relatively protected in the shade of the bridge tower, he himself had been made to stand alone, and with the heat at unbearable levels already, he was in imminent danger of passing out with the heat. If he let his concentration go for just one second…

I had to keep him talking. Make him focus, stop him from passing out and keep hope alive. The thought that I might lose my mother was terrible. The knowledge that in that case I would lose my youngest son too, my Lucy's final gift to us was unbearable. With my heart pounding, a huge lump in my throat and my mouth dry, I started asking Alan questions, anything and everything to keep him awake and alert.

With Tintin's help and support, I, or rather, we managed to keep Alan talking long enough for Scott to arrive, but it was a close-run thing. Alan was in a bad way. He lasted only long enough for Brains and Virgil to neutralize the anti-motion device, and he collapsed unconscious into the air-cushion below provided by Virgil.

The report I received initially from Scott was slightly hurried and not a little garbled. A rare thing for Scott and told me perhaps more than he knew. They were very worried about Alan.

Even now I try to imagine what it must have been like to have to stand there in the blazing sun and all that heat, knowing that you cannot move, either to wipe sweat from your face or relieve an itch without being blown up. Could I have lasted that long?

Brains called me a few minutes later with a slightly clearer report that both my mother and my son were safe and were being cared for in the sickbay of Thunderbird Two. They would return to base once the two patients had been stabilized.

That got me worried all over again.

Stabilized? That would mean sunstroke and exhaustion of course. Exhaustion may not be necessarily deadly, but sunstroke definitely is if it remains untreated. Both of them were suffering from the effects of the heat. Again, I was cautious about calling San Miguel for more details, knowing that they would be busy and would certainly call me when they had something helpful to tell me.

I waited for six hours.

Six hours!

As it turned out, my mother was easily treated with a cool shower, then cold water followed by a nap. Alan's case was a lot more severe, and neither Brains nor Virgil were willing to leave his side until his temperature had started to lower. I have always been proud of the facilities we have, even within our Thunderbirds, down to the well-equipped sickbay. But the facility for treating sunstroke was a lot more limited that any of us had realized. Considering the limited facilities they had, the boys did remarkably well in bringing Alan's temperature down to a safer level before they started back for home.

They called me just before take-off, and I was surprised but very relieved to see Alan standing in the cockpit with the others. He looked sunburnt obviously, but otherwise okay.

I have had it drummed into me that Alan is as determined as the rest of us to spend as little time as possible in sickbay. He is due to relieve John in the satellite in a few days, and I suspect he was so anxious not to lose out on even a day of his treasured satellite duty that he insisted he was fine to get up as soon as he recovered consciousness. All the same, John can stay up there for an extra few days, to give Alan extra time to recover from his ordeal. No doubt John will be happy to have a week in hand that he can claim back from Alan next time he wants to go to the mainland for a few days.

We have also learned that a proper system for treating sunstroke would be a good thing to have installed in Thunderbird Two. We have a special machine here on the island, but it is far too large to cram into Two's small sickbay. Brains is currently designing a smaller, streamlined version that I am certain will save lives in the future.

Yes, being the one left behind on the island is the very hardest thing. Scott doesn't agree with me, but then he is always in the thick of the action. One of these days I will make him change places with me for a few days. He will soon learn which of us truly does have the hardest job.


	13. "...but Johnny hates social...everything!"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "...but Johnny hates social . . .everything!" that was what Gordon said about me, on an open channel! Well he's wrong about that! I don't hate social everything!  
> Well...there are some social things I'm not fond of...like big parties and crowds of strangers, and like being the center of attention! 
> 
> Going to a large party escorting Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward is the one thing guaranteed to bring me bucket-loads of attention. I just had to get out of there! Then I found a way. A very dangerous way...courtesy of the Hood.  
> Much as I hate to say it, I am almost grateful...or would have been if it hadn't backfired so badly . . .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on the TAG episode "The Man From TB5"

I don't actually hate social everything. Gordon was wrong about that. I have to admit that I am not fond of large crowds of strangers. The last few years, since I took up the running of Thunderbird Five, however, I have to admit that my aversion to crowds has increased tenfold.

When we were younger, dad would occasionally have functions to attend where he was required to bring his family along. I always would plead to be allowed to stay at home with my book, but he always maintained that I needed to go.

_I was a valid part of the family._

_I was a calming influence on my brothers, who all tended to get a bit volatile at times._

_I would never learn to like crowds if I never got any practice._

There were always reams of other reasons, all good and perfectly sound and logical. Dad was no different to other dads the world over, I guess. No matter how many well thought out and logical reasons I put forward to get out of going to his functions, he would always have more and better reasons to make me go. Annoyingly good reasons that I could not refute. I remember one such conversation, where he gave me such a compassionate look that I ground my teeth.

" _John!_ " he said, holding my hands tightly in his own. " _Do you want to spend your whole life alone and afraid of spending time with your brothers simply because of the presence of crowds of strangers?_ "

" _Um, well, not really, but_ …" I began. He smiled and hugged me.

" _Then now is the time to learn how to cope, whilst you are still young enough to be able to adapt to things like this."_

I won't go on about that conversation. Needless to say, that that was not the end of it, but I could hardly deny dad's logic. Mind you, I was only thirteen that time. As time went on, I gave up arguing with him about it, because I always lost. My brothers were always with me. Scott and Virgil always seemed to know when I had had enough and always gravitated towards me as my own personal guard of honour, making sure that I was left alone when I needed to be. I did learn how to deal with it all. Even, to some degree, the reporters and photographers that seemed to follow our family everywhere we went.

I never learned to enjoy it, simply how to endure it.

Over the years I learned to accept and even enjoy large crowds of people I know well, which is the only way I managed to get through my graduation ceremonies and parties until dad became convinced that his methods had been right all along.

Yeah right, whatever.

Gordon is a social butterfly. He loves people, and they all love him. At this point, perhaps I should make some comment like _`I don't know why'_ , but actually I do. He is smart; much smarter than he lets on actually, he is funny and he is never at a loss for things to say. He is loud and incredibly social. I have always been the kind of person with just three or four very close friends, with others keeping the needed distance. Gordon was always at the center of a huge, admiring crowd, whom he played up to. He never was one to develop deep friendships with any of them. His close friends have always been us, his brothers, especially Alan.

It really should have been Gordon that Penny invited to go to that chateau function with her. But no, she insisted that it had to be me.

Have you ever tried to say "No" to Lady Penelope? I think the word is not in her vocabulary. She will occasionally accept such terms as; "Later", but she never leaves the subject until she has you tied up and delivered on a silver salver. And she carries it all off with such grace and style that it can be a little while before you realize that you are being manipulated.

The moment I realized it was when that white tuxedo was delivered to Five with a note from Brains to the effect that he was glad that I was able to test out his new design in tuxedos. I should have guessed there would be more to it. I am grateful for it now, of course, but I should never have been there in the first place. Nevertheless, once the Hood turned up and turned the whole event around, and I realized that a hero was needed, I knew it had to be me.

Not because I am a hero…oh no!

Not because I am a member of International Rescue either. No way.

It had to be me because I was by that time so desperate to get out of that room that I would have done anything.

Once I was outside, balancing precariously with a frighteningly cavernous drop below me, I became more aware than ever of the benefits of spending my life on Thunderbird Five.

Floating, not falling. No gravity trying to have its wicked way with me. That feeling became even more real when I realized that the cable was going to part, and I was going to fall.

I was going to fall down into that abyss and die.

I closed my eyes, determined not to scream or show myself up. I was after all, the one who volunteered. For that split second, I prayed that if I got out of this in one piece, I would be grateful even to be able to rejoin the party with Lady Penelope.

Someone must have listened to me, because I stayed in one piece. You know, it had not occurred to me before that moment to wonder why Brains had gone to the trouble of sending up socks and underwear along with the suit. It isn't as if I don't have socks and other articles of underclothing of my own is it? But I was incredibly glad that he had, because his magnetic socks were what saved my life.

I won't go into the rescue itself. I didn't feel heroic. I was only out there because it was by far the better option than being stuck inside with those…that crowd. Penelope after all had been the organizer of that party, and therefore had a part to play in the proceedings, leaving me, to some degree, on my own. No, by comparison, the deep abyss and my magnetic socks were preferable.

Fate did get the last laugh over me though. Scott rescued me in the end when even my magnetic socks failed. If he had not been there right at the end, I would have ended up falling to my death, but he saved me with a long line below One.

" _Put me down anywhere!"_

Famous last words. Scott, I think, was enjoying my discomfort far, far too much. The dolt actually put me back on the ground right beside Lady Penelope and her rich society crowd. This time though, there was no necessary distance.

I was unable to escape the myriad of hugs from the women, the back-slapping and hand-shaking from the men, all of whom wanted to be my best friend from there on in.

I had to fend off job offers…mostly security and bodyguard type offers, amazingly; several proposals…and not all from women disturbingly, and pleas about who I was, where had Penelope found me, and were there any more like me at home?

That was the time, I decided, to make myself scarce. I left Penny to finish dealing with the fund-raising, which considering that most of the exhibits had been destroyed along with the chateau, was going amazingly well, and I contacted the guys to help recover FAB 1 then get me home.

I have three other special ports for my space elevator as well as the one on Tracy Island; but it was left to Penelope and Parker and the amazingly solid FAB1 to get me back to it.

I have never been so relieved to get back home as I was then. Thunderbird Five. My home-away-from-home. Of course, then I had a suitably remorseful AI to chastise. I was very annoyed with her, and I made sure she knew it. In hindsight, it is pretty clear what the problem was. She is incredibly powerful and intelligent, but as far as being sentient is concerned, she is a child.

I worked out, without too much difficulty that when I left Five, she was quite capable and even looking forward to handling things on her own. But rather than leave her alone, I sent my two youngest brothers up there to run the station and keep an eye on her.

A sulky child left at home with babysitters.

Considering the way she behaved with Alan and Gordon, that is what I put it down to. I had to have a straight talk with her, and I made sure that she understood that her behaviour then was childish and not to be tolerated. She now understands better that if she wants to be trusted to run the station alone, she needs to demonstrate that she is fully trustworthy, and not behave like a spoiled brat.

The stilted apology she offered to Gordon and Alan was, I admit, slightly forced, but it was totally genuine. I am sure in future, that should such a situation happen again, she will be a lot more cooperative.

As for me, I find that I am forced to concede that perhaps dad was right when I was a teenager. Maybe I should have paid more attention to social studies and social interaction back then. If I had, I wouldn't have felt so out of place and awkward at that party with Penelope. However, I have also learned that regardless of anything else, I am happiest where I am, and I am most suited for my current role in life. In future, when Penny mentions anything about " _a little get together_ ", that is Penny-speak for " _Huge, massive and dripping with media attention!"_

Now, I just have a stockpile of about forty-seven invitations to politely turn down. Perhaps I ought to temporarily employ Penny as my secretary? After all, she's the one who got me into this . . .


End file.
